


Kept

by SubverbalDreams



Series: Captured [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Bondage, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration, EddieVenom are basically a mob boss, Evil!Eddie, Evil!Venom, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Incest, Lots of it, M/M, Mind Rape, Mindfuck, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Shibari, Stockholm Syndrome, Tentacle Rape, Trauma Bonding, Underage Rape/Non-con, Victim!Peter, expect pain okay, if this has a "happy" ending it is going to be in a twisted way, peter is 16, spidervenom - Freeform, symbrock, veddie - Freeform, whump!Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-03-08 09:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18891646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubverbalDreams/pseuds/SubverbalDreams
Summary: Part 2 alternate (unhappy) ending of "Captured," in which Peter is left to the ministrations of Venom/Eddie and their Hydra companions.This is going to hurt.





	1. The Night I Met You (and You)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This isn't going to have a happy ending, except in the very twisted way that Venom and Eddie have wanted all along.
> 
> This is the AU ending of "[Captured](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822004/chapters/44663635)" in which Peter is abandoned to his fate. He has to learn to love his new adoptive fathers Eddie and Venom, or lose his mind completely.
> 
> Maybe it's already been lost.
> 
> Mind your own headspace and take breaks if you need to.
> 
> Could also check out [Peter Gets Rescued](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892132/chapters/44843719) \- the other alternate (happy!) ending to Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter flashes back to the night he met Eddie Brock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've named Aunt May "Mae Taravelli" because in this AU she is not biologically related to Peter (she was his foster parent), and the movie actress looks more like a "Mae" to me.

 

Peter thought he might have dozed off against Eddie’s broad back on the ride back to Eddie’s place. He had a dream that Eddie’s arms somehow wrapped around him, holding him onto the bike so he didn’t fall. He also dreamed about Aunt Mae and all the misery of the last few months, and about his meeting with Tony Stark and the Avengers. It was all so vivid, like he was telling the story to someone else.

It was a relief when the bike stopped and he snapped fully awake.

Turned out, Eddie lived in an insanely ritzy apartment high rise, in a neighborhood Peter didn’t recognize. Eddie had an _entire floor_ to himself. When they got in, he took Peter straight to the shower. Peter didn’t protest; he knew he smelled bad. He showered between three jets and an overhead waterfall, came out to find a t-shirt and drawstring pants next to the bath towel—they were too big, obviously belonged to Eddie, but they were _clean_ —and when he came out of the bathroom barefoot, hair still dripping, he found Eddie in the front room, back turned to him. He had a few windows open on the computer screen in front of him and he was mumbling under his breath.

Eddie went silent and locked the screen as soon as Peter stepped into the room. He swiveled to face Peter and smiled.

That smile was just like Peter had seen on TV. Only better, because this was in person and it was directed at _him,_ and yeah, he had always nursed a bit of a crush on Eddie Brock. Peter smiled back. Exhausted, but relieved. He had a place to stay for the night. A safe place, with a _real bed_ , or at least a couch. Eddie’s couch was plush, tan leather and it looked softer than his bed with Aunt Mae had been.

Eddie asked if he was hungry. Peter’s stomach answered with an embarrassing _rowl_ before he could say anything, but his benefactor just laughed and took him to the kitchen, then made him the best steak he’d ever eaten in his entire life. Eddie put a slab of steak on his own plate after serving Peter, though Eddie’s barely looked cooked. Peter’s, on the other hand, was perfectly seared on the outside and bloody on the inside.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Eddie’s broad shoulders as Eddie went to the cabinet to get steak sauce. He wasn’t as tall as Peter would’ve expected, but he made up for it in muscle. His short sleeves showed off the tattoos Peter recognized from Eddie’s TV show, and impressive forearms. Peter watched one of those arms reach into the cabinet.

He blinked. And did a double take.

The entire—no, seriously, _the_ **_entire_ ** bottom half of the pantry was filled with stack upon stack of chocolate bars.

“Willie Wonka,” Peter murmured. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Eddie snorted, mumbled what Peter would’ve _sworn_ was, “Tell you later,” then looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“I got a sweet tooth,” he said with a shrug. He grabbed a bottle of steak sauce and a chocolate bar and passed both to Peter, then poured them each a glass of wine before he sat back down. Peter almost turned down the drink, but he’d taken sips of red wine with steak before (it made the meat taste even better) and he was betting this was quality stuff. He was right.

“Am I in heaven?” he asked, dazed.

Eddie laughed indulgently.

And then he talked.

There was just something about him. Peter was naturally talkative (ok, he was an incessant chatterbox) and talking with Eddie over red wine, steak and chocolate, he just couldn’t shut it off. He felt...what was it that he felt?

Comfortable.

How long had it been since he’d felt that way?

“I should get to bed, Mr. Brock,” Peter finally said. “I have to be at school in the morning.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in bemusement. “On a Saturday?”

“Oh,” was Peter’s brilliant riposte. He’d lost track of the days. Of course, tomorrow was Saturday.

Eddie gave him an understanding smile, then got up and took Peter’s arm. The brush of his fingers against Peter’s inner elbow sent shivers through his skin.

“Come on, son. Let’s get you to bed.”

It felt weird, _really_ weird, to be called “son” by anyone, let alone Eddie Brock. He didn’t seem like the fatherly type. More like the cool uncle that would slip you a beer when your (foster) parents were out of the room. But “bed” sounded a lot like “pure bliss” right now, and Peter was happy to let someone else take the lead.

Eddie’s arm curled around Peter’s waist as they walked. His palm was warm against Peter’s side. His cologne smelled like winter and sweet spice and something else that did awkward things to Peter’s lower half.

 _Just a crush,_ he told himself. _Don’t be stupid. He really is old enough to be your father._

Eddie didn’t turn on the lights in the bedroom. The only light came from the city outside; a picture window took up most of the wall, covered by a sheer curtain. Eddie guided Peter into the room and shut the door behind them.

“Just point the way,” Peter yawned. “Think I could sleep on a rock, at this point.”

“Well, it’s a little better than that,” Eddie said and walked Peter right up to the bed.

It was big. Way bigger than a king, Peter was pretty sure.

“Isn’t this your bed?” Peter asked. Would it be weird to sleep in the same bed? I mean. Even one this big. That was weird, right?

Eddie chuckled. “You’re a sharp kid, you know that?”

Peter shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, I’m in science club which I guess is kinda nerdy? But I like it—” He interrupted himself with another yawn.

Eddie chuckled again, but it seemed lower this time. Almost growly. The sound of it shivered all the way up Peter’s spine.

“You are,” Eddie said. “Real sharp.” He scratched his fingernails across the nape of Peter’s neck, drawing goosebumps up Peter’s shoulders. “Still. Queens is a nasty place for a pretty-boy orphan like you to try and rough it on the streets.”

Peter’s stomach did a strange roll.

“OK,” he laughed nervously. “That was a weird thing to say.” It was more than weird. He was 100% sure he’d never told Eddie Brock that he was an orphan.

“Took us months to track you down,” Eddie continued. “But in all that time, we never guessed you were just a little kid.” He stroked both hands down Peter’s arms, tracing the muscles. “Well. Not that little,” he amended.

It was the strangest feeling. Peter had been canoeing once; he’d tried to walk from the back of the canoe to the front without tipping into the water. That’s what he felt like right now. Every word out of Eddie’s mouth tipped him further off balance.

“What?” Peter asked. His tongue felt thick.

The hands on his biceps pulled him back so he was flush against Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s breath heated his ear.

“We’ve been _hunting_ you, **Spider-Man.”**

Peter tried to jump out of his skin. It was unsuccessful, but he did manage to completely lose his balance. Eddie whirled him around by his arm and shoved him, hard. Peter sprawled backward onto the bed.

“What—the hell,” Peter choked. That voice when Eddie said “Spider-Man” had come straight out of one of those demonic possession movies.

Eddie laughed at him. He _laughed_ . Like it was some great joke. And that was when Peter realized _what_ Eddie had just called him. What he had just said.

He’d been looking for Peter. Hunting him.

Hunting Spider-Man.

“Look—man,” Peter stammered, “if this is a joke, it’s not funny, ok? I’m really just—I’m tired, Mr. Brock, I don’t want to play games…”

“We know, baby,” Eddie agreed. “We know you’re tired.” He climbed up onto the bed, on hands and knees. Peter pushed himself backwards. This “we” business had just pushed the weirdometer to 200.

“Uh. Do you have, like, a doctor, maybe, you need me to call?” Peter asked. “Or like, medicine? For the, uh, the ‘we’ thing? And maybe they could look into the creepy demon voice, while they’re at it—”

Eddie’s palm clapped down over Peter’s mouth, cutting off his ramble.

OK, this had been fun and all, but it was time to split. Which Peter probably would have said out loud, if Eddie wasn’t covering his mouth.

Peter twisted out from under Eddie’s hands and launched himself off the bed. It was a good plan, as far as it went. He must have been way more tired than he thought, though. Even before Eddie lost his grip on Peter’s face and arm, there was _another_ set of hands around his ankles. And that just wasn’t possible.

Peter twisted back on Eddie and shoved him. His hand met flesh and kept going. Like it was sinking into liquid sand.

The rest of the fight wasn’t even a fight. Something wrapped around each of Peter’s wrists and jerked them behind his back. There was no way on this earth that Eddie could have bound him up so fast.

Except...he had. Peter’s arms were almost crossed behind his back, wrapped together with so many cords he couldn’t even wiggle them. His legs were likewise bound, strapped together from ankles to knees. And Peter was strong—he’d had buses thrown at him, had half of a freaking building land on him! But he couldn’t budge these ropes.

Which left only three possible explanations. Either Peter was having a bug-nuts dream (he felt very awake), or Eddie had drugged the wine (but Peter didn’t feel drugged), or—and Peter was leaning precariously toward this one, much as he didn’t want to—Eddie was another Enhanced.

Like the Avengers. Like him.

“What is this,” Peter asked. His voice was steady. Points for him and total exhaustion.

 **“Foreplay,”** Eddie answered in that demon voice.

“W-what?” Peter asked, in a significantly less steady voice.

Eddie snickered. “Actually, it’s called shibari. Japanese rope bondage. It’s a hobby,” he added, as if this explained everything. He stood up on the bed, hooked his fingers under a rope that stretched from Peter’s bound arms around the front of his chest and used it to lift Peter one-handed.

Inhuman strength, check. This was not a dream, not a hallucination.

“We were gonna kill you,” Eddie remarked as he lowered Peter back down in the middle of the bed and arranged a pillow behind his head. “But you seemed so helpless and sweet. Like a little snack. And y’know what?”

There was a beat of silence before Peter realized he was supposed to answer. “What?”

Eddie wrapped a hand around Peter’s throat and _squeezed_.

 **“You** **_are._ ** **”**

The ropes around Peter’s body shifted, a sensation like someone adjusting their grip. The t-shirt rode up while the pants slipped down. Peter tried to draw his knees up to stop the slide, but something pulled his ankles back down.

“People know where I am,” Peter blurted, voice strained by the hand that was choking him.

His vision was adjusting to the dim light. He could see Eddie’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Who would that be?” Eddie asked. There was no alarm at all in his voice. In fact, it sounded like he was holding back a laugh. “Mae Taravelli? When’s the last time she’s heard from her _favorite genius?”_

Those words hurt more than a punch to the gut.

Eddie knew about Aunt Mae. That was bad enough. But Eddie also knew Aunt Mae’s pet name for Peter. Which was impossible. Wasn’t it?

 _“Not yet,”_ Eddie murmured. He was looking into Peter’s eyes, but it seemed like he was talking to someone else. _“This is too much fun. He has no idea.”_

Eddie’s thumb and fingers pressed in around Peter’s throat, until Peter’s pulse sounded loud inside his head.

“Your name is Peter Parker. Your parents are dead. Your last foster parent, who you loved with _all your heart,_ ” (he said this as if it was a joke) “is facing charges of child endangerment. You’ve got aspirations of being a superhero, but it hasn’t really panned out. You might flunk out of high school, and your _one_ Avengers connection has been ghosting you since that time he coerced you into flying to another country to try and beat up his coworkers. Did I cover everything?”

Peter’s heart had sunk somewhere deep under the bed. It was impossible that Eddie would know all this. Peter hadn’t said _any_ of it, hadn’t hinted, and nothing he’d been carrying in his backpack or wallet could’ve told that story.

“Why am I here?” Peter asked, voice hushed. That line about Tony Stark had cut his strings. Yeah, Mr. Stark was ghosting him. But he was really, _really_ busy. He couldn’t jump every time Peter called.

Which had been daily.

For months.

“Good question,” Eddie said. He lowered down on one elbow beside Peter and slung one leg across him. He shifted that leg up and down, pushing the drawstring pants even lower. Cool air touched the base of Peter’s cock.

Not OK. Not at all.

“You’re here, because this is where you live, now.” Eddie’s grip loosened around Peter’s throat, turned into a caress. “But there’s gonna be some rules. Can you follow rules for us, baby?”

 _“What,”_ Peter squeaked. “You—you _just_ said you were gonna kill me?”

“That was before the bike ride,” Eddie said. As if that explained _anything._ “Now don’t make me ask this again. Can you follow our rules?”

Peter took a step back from the situation. Or at least, he tried to. He was alone in the high rise apartment of a complete lunatic, tied up with something stronger than any rope he knew of, and, oh, yes, he was in a bed with half his dick hanging out and that hand on his throat alternately squeezing and releasing so his head just spun and spun…

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I can follow rules.” _Until you untie me._

Eddie squeezed Peter’s throat so hard, everything blacked out. He was dimly aware that the ropes on his arms, chest, and legs had all tightened as well. It only lasted a few seconds, then everything went slack and Eddie was talking under his breath again.

_“Calm down. Calm down! He’s just a kid. We have to teach him.”_

He caught Peter watching and flashed a cut of a smile. “That’ll be Rule One, then. Never lie to us. Let’s **test your understanding.”**

The deeper voice overlapped his as Eddie shifted his position. One hand stayed on Peter’s throat. The other hand pushed his pants down so that Peter’s cock and balls were completely exposed and this _was not happening._ It wasn’t. Not to him. He protected people from things like this. He protected—

Eddie’s warm hand traced over him, from one sensitive thigh to the thatch of hair above his cock, to his other thigh. Peter’s gasp was cut off by a tightening of the hand around his throat. His pulse rose up into his temples. Eddie traced around his cock again and again, stroking nerves Peter hadn’t known existed. He was getting hard.

Oh, god. He was getting hard.

“Does that feel good?” Eddie asked softly.

 _“No,”_ Peter said, his voice a whisper.

Eddie’s hand clamped down around his throat, fingers pressing deep into the sides of his neck. Peter’s head filled with static. It took a minute for the buzzing to die down after Eddie let go. Peter gasped wetly, tried to turn on his side, but the ropes stopped him.

“Stubborn,” Eddie said. “But we know you can learn this.”

Eddie shifted his leg off of Peter’s, raised himself up and changed position, releasing Peter’s throat. Peter bucked, which did exactly nothing except tug his pants down even more. Warm breath against the tip of his cock and that was his only warning before wet heat covered the head.

Peter’s previous sexual experience, which consisted of his (mostly left) hand and various types of lotion, did not even remotely compare to this. Eddie took the entire length down his throat like he was starving for it. Everything was heat and wetness and suction. His tongue worked along Peter’s shaft, then he _swallowed_.

A strangled keening sound worked itself up from Peter’s stomach and out of his mouth. Eddie’s plush lips tightened around Peter and he sucked, bobbing up and down so that Peter’s cockhead slipped in and out of the tight space in the back of his throat.

By the time he pulled off, Peter felt feverish. His skin was tight with need and his eyes were burning.

Had they just had sex? That didn’t count, did it?

“Did that feel good?” Eddie asked and kissed the side of Peter’s cock. Peter shrank back into the bed. His cock was drenched, now, and the cool bedroom air lit up every single nerve. His skin felt electrified. But Peter’s chest and stomach hurt with a twisted ache, and the pain was right on balance with the pleasure. Together, they were too much.

 _“No—Stop,”_ Peter said. He’d meant his voice to be firm, but it came out a whimper.

“Baby, I know we’re still working on Rule One, but we need to get you started on Rule Two right now.” Eddie’s hand closed around Peter’s cock and stroked idly as he spoke. “When you speak to me, you either call me ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Brock.’” He squeezed and tugged, until Peter’s hips lifted off the bed. “And when you’re ready, you can call us ‘Daddy.’ No rush.”

Peter tried to let out a derisive laugh. It came out as a thin sob and he clamped his jaw shut. That wasn’t him. He didn’t break. He couldn’t.

People needed him.

The Avengers needed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumbl me [HERE](http://subverbaldreams.tumblr.com) for more art and fics - I dare you.
> 
> Twit your distaste [HERE](http://twitter.com/SubverbalD).
> 
> Some notes on how this site works:  
> \- If you “subscribe” you’ll get emails as new chapters come out. No one (not even me) can see who subscribes.  
> \- You can make “private” bookmarks, again no one can see them.  
> \- If you’re logged out of the Archive and hit “Kudos” it just says “A guest left Kudos” (and it lets me know you appreciated my work, which is nice).
> 
> Fantasy is a blissful filter where pain can be turned into pleasure. 
> 
> ❤️❤️🖤


	2. Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter reacts to finding out that Eddie has legally adopted him.
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by TraumaVisionTM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks back up where the prior story, “Captured,” left off.

_Adoption._

_Certification of the Court...the COURT_

No. No, no, no, no, no.

He couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in the room and _they had just had sex_ and he’d liked it, he’d finally started learning to let himself enjoy it, and _this—_

Eddie took the legal folder from his limp fingers. His hand slid up the side of Peter’s face, turned him until they were eye to eye. Venom had formed its own head beside Eddie’s. Both of them, watching him.

Cold spikes knifed through Peter’s body. None of his limbs seemed to belong to him. None of them _did_ belong to Peter, not anymore; they belonged to Eddie, Eddie and Venom both, but the law was on Eddie’s side and he was never getting away, he was trapped here, they’d fucked him and he’d liked it and they were his father and he couldn’t _breathe_

 **“Look how excited he is. So precious.”** Venom’s thousand pointed teeth mocked him with that eternal grin.

“He is,” Eddie agreed. His hand tightened on the back of Peter’s neck. “Breathe, son. Slow it down.”

 _Son._ He was going to throw up. Betrayal stabbed ice picks through his chest. Venom might not know, might not realize what they’d done, but Eddie _did._ That smug curl of his mouth, the almost sneer said he knew _exactly_ what he was doing and he was getting off on watching Peter break.

 _You took everything,_ Peter wanted to scream. _First kiss. First “I love you.” First blowjob. First handjob._ The list went on and on. They must have done everything there was to do, by now. There was nothing left.

Nothing except this. Father and…and…

Peter lunged upward.

 **“Sit back down,”** Eddie and Venom said with one voice.

Peter expected Venom to clench tight around him, but it didn’t. Maybe they had gotten used to him obeying their every command. But this was different. He couldn’t do this. It was _so wrong._

Peter jumped over the couch and sprinted for the door. He grabbed the handle and ripped at it. The door jamb splintered; the handle came off in his hand and the door swung open.

Peter was in the elevator hallway before tentacles caught his ankles and ripped them out from under him. Venom dragged him back into the room, hardwood skidding up his knees and arms as he struggled. His heart was going to pound out of his head. He didn’t think what they’d do to him; he didn’t think about the punishment. A single cry shrieked through his system: GET AWAY, GET AWAY, GET AWAY.

It had been a long time since he’d really fought them. Peter twisted and writhed; he hit Venom with one web after another. Splotches of Venom wound up stuck to floor, wall, and ceiling by gossamer strands. Eddie ran toward him, uneven ribbons of blackness scrawled over his limbs and a hard determination in his eyes. His fingers were too long, taloned with Venom’s claws.

Peter turned again toward the door, just as Eddie got close.

Multiple lines of fire slashed across his back, from right shoulder to left hip. His left leg turned to water and he tumbled into a roll, screamed as the floor hit his back. A red wave took the world for a few seconds, but he kept moving. Blind with pain, he scrambled to hands and knees.

An irresistible tug jerked his neck to the floor. The same to his arms, then his waist. His ankles snapped back to his thighs; when he tried to straighten his legs, he couldn’t. They had toyed with him, like a cat when it caught a bug and then let it go just to catch it again. They had caught him, and now he couldn’t run.

He knew Eddie’s apartment was soundproofed, but he screamed anyway.

“HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!!!” Those were the only words. After that, it was just one long vowel, as loud as he could scream, one breath after another. Pure despair, and he let it rip his throat. He let it _hurt._

Venom didn’t bother to gag him. It inexorably pulled his arms so that they were crossed over his chest. It roped them to his torso like a straitjacket.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

 

—

 

They waited until his screams died out on their own, faded into sobs that made his body convulse on the floor. His back was burning. The floor smelled like copper; his right shoulder stuck to the blood that had pooled there. They let his sobs die down into sniffles before Peter’s hair was jerked, pulling his head up. Venom maneuvered him until he was on his knees. Eddie stood over him, one hand in his hair so Peter couldn’t look away. Peter kept his eyes turned to the side.

 _“Wanna go home,”_ he whimpered. _“I want Mae.”_ He and Mae used to watch old movies together, and she’d bring him dinner on the couch. She’d hug him to her chest when he got home from school. She’d been the closest thing he’d ever had to real family. He would cut off his own arm to be with her, right now.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie asked. There was an unnatural calm to his voice. Peter looked up.

Black ribbons writhed just beneath Eddie’s skin. One eye was pure ebony from lid to lid. The other was still human, but grey as a storm cloud. Eddie’s other hand came down to cup Peter’s chin. The thumb rested on his lips, heavy as a steel lock.

“You want us to bring Mae here for you?” Eddie asked.

Ice water shot through Peter’s veins. The thought of Eddie doing something to Mae had occurred to him before; he’d had screaming nightmares about it. But this was the first time Eddie had said anything out loud.

Trembling took over Peter’s body from head to toe. His ears buzzed, the room went dim, and he realized he was about to faint. He’d never fainted before.

“We could put her up in one of the guest rooms,” Eddie continued, watching his thumb as it pushed Peter’s lower lip against his teeth. “If that’s what it’d take to make you happy, son.” He glanced up into Peter’s eyes and gave a smile that turned Peter’s innards into soup. “We’d do that for you.”

The sushi Peter had eaten came rushing back up. The vomit burned his raw throat. Eddie stepped to the side and held Peter in a bent-over position until he was spitting bile, then lifted him by a cord wrapped across his back and dragged him away from the sick. The open wounds on his back turned to fire at the rough handling. Peter hung his head and moaned with every jolting step until Eddie finally dropped him. Eddie put a foot to his shoulder and pushed him onto his back, then regarded him silently, with that stillness that meant _they_ were speaking.

“Talk out loud, Vee,” Eddie said at last. “Peter’s family, now.”

Venom coalesced over Eddie’s heart and formed its own head beside him. **“We do not want Mae here. Peter belongs to** **_us.”_ **

Peter stared at the ceiling. The room was bright again, but he desperately wanted it to go dark. Wanted to pass out, to not be here anymore.

“We gotta be good to our boy, though, Vee,” Eddie said reasonably. “If he wants to have a mommy, we should give him one.”

Shattered glass. It filled Peter’s chest and arms, a trillion shards cutting him from the inside. He meant to beg, hiccuped instead and shook his head back and forth. His tears broke the light like a prism. The room blurred.

“What’s that, son? You gotta use your words; we don’t know what the head-shaking means. You want us to bring Mae here, right? Isn’t that what you just said?”

Peter blinked the tears out of his eyes so he could see Eddie’s expression. It was beyond terrifying. A knowing smile played around his mouth, fangs dented his lower lip, and Venom hovered beside him, watching Peter curiously. Peter hiccuped in another partial breath. His lungs wouldn’t work right.

“No,” he managed, his voice thin as water. “Please no. I don’t want her. I onl-ly w-want you, sir.”

_Please, pass out. Please. Please._

But he was perfectly awake, and Eddie looked unconvinced.

“Now, see, that’s the opposite of what you _just_ said. You think he’s lyin’, Vee?”

**“He should know better, by now.”**

_“No,”_ Peter breathed. _I’m not lying,_ he meant to say, but pure terror stole the rest of that breath. His chest heaved over dry sobs that made no sound. He prayed for blackness to take him. It didn’t. Instead, his mind filled with visions of Mae. Of things they’d do to her, to keep him in line. The more he tried not to think about it, the more vivid the thoughts became. The room swam in and out of focus.

Peter’s lips moved, but nothing came out. He couldn’t get any air. They stood over him, watched him crumble, and he felt more naked than he already was. They had turned him inside out. Nothing hidden. Nothing his own.

They watched him for a long, long time, and still Peter couldn’t get enough breath to beg.

Venom shifted around Peter’s ankles. His calves came unglued from his thighs and Venom pulled his legs out straight, still wrapped in black ropes, but with a little slack in between. Eddie hauled Peter to his feet by the ropes around his middle, held most of his weight and started walking. Peter hunched into himself and shuffled his feet. Tears dripped down his nose.

Eddie took him to the bathroom, to the sink, and held him up while Venom lifted a glass of water to his lips so Peter could rinse his mouth. Eddie petted his hair away from his sweaty forehead. Venom had him swish mouthwash, then gently brushed his teeth for him. Peter remained straitjacketed through it all, legs shaking underneath him. The mirror revealed blood all over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see the wounds on his back to assess the damage.

He avoided looking at his face. An accidental glance had already made things so much worse.

That wasn’t Peter Parker in the mirror. The person in the mirror had a paper-white face with two bright splotches of pink on his cheeks. Eyes rimmed in angry red, glazed like a drug addict. That was somebody else. Not him.

Eddie treated the cuts on his back. The bleeding had already stopped, thanks to Peter’s enhancement. It burned like fire and had already started itching. Rapid healing meant all the misery of a healing wound condensed into a shorter time frame. By the time he finished and helped Peter to his feet, the panic had subsided into blissful numbness. The pain was far away.

Eddie walked Peter away from the sink, but not to the bedroom. They took him to the living room and pointed to the pile of vomit.

“Clean up your mess,” Eddie said.

Venom’s tentacles released Peter all at once. He staggered, caught himself, and went to the kitchen on wobbling legs to get paper towels. Cleaning up the sick made him want to puke again. He tried to escape, to think of something else.

_Eddie, holding him upright. Venom brushing his teeth._

Peter’s chest squeezed so hard it hurt, but it was a good pain. Better than what he was doing. So he immersed himself in the memory, replayed it over and over.

Eddie helping him. Venom taking care of him.

When he’d erased the evidence of vomit and blood, he started toward the door, but their voice halted him mid-step.

**“Where do you think you’re going?”**

A cold shiver ran through Peter’s body. He turned back to them, already trembling.

 _“T-the wood,”_ Peter mumbled. _“On, on the, floor.”_ There were splinters all around the door jamb.

Eddie stalked toward him and Peter cringed. The larger man took hold of his chin, tilted his head up so they were eye to eye and studied him for a long minute. Finally, his lips cracked into a pleased smile.

“Such a good boy, trying to please us. We’ll take care of the rest.” Eddie’s hand slipped down to Peter’s throat and pressed on either side of his trachea. “We still need to punish you. You understand that, don’t you, son?”

Peter’s legs wobbled. He nodded.

“What’s that?”

 _“Yes, sir,”_ Peter managed. He couldn’t say “Daddy.” Not now. He lowered his eyes and prayed that they wouldn’t make him.

To his relief, they didn’t.

He practically let Eddie hold him up as Eddie walked him to the bedroom. He just wanted to lie down and curl around the hurt inside. He was so tired.

Eddie walked him up to the bed, then pushed his neck until he was bent forward over it. Peter gripped the comforter, buried his face in it. Eddie reached under him and pulled his balls forward, tucked them against the bed and nudged Peter’s legs together to keep them in place.

It would be a whipping, then. It wasn’t the first time.

Eddie walked away from him. Peter closed his eyes and listened. Opening of a dresser drawer. Slide of a metal belt clasp against wood. Rustle of Eddie’s pants as he returned, and Peter jumped when Eddie’s warm hand touched his back.

Rough denim pressed against Peter’s ass. Eddie pushed his hips forward, leaned over him so his breath tickled Peter’s ear.

 _“We’re gonna give you ten, then fuck this pretty ass before the bruises fade,”_ he murmured, voice husky as he delivered those chilling words. Ten from Eddie with his insane strength was fifty from anyone else. There wouldn’t be bruises; there would be _gashes._ But Peter bit his lips and nodded understanding. So long as Eddie was enjoying his pain, he wouldn’t think about Mae.

Eddie stepped back from him. There was no warning before white-hot agony blasted the world apart.

Peter tried to arch back. Tried to kick. But Venom anticipated him and whipped around his wrists and ankles, spread to the bed frame and held him fast.

The second blow hit the exact same spot. Peter’s broken voice wouldn’t allow him to scream. A whistle of air came out of his mouth while tears poured down his face. It had only been two. He was going to die.

Number three hit and lights exploded in Peter’s head. He prayed to pass out.

He didn’t.

It went on forever. Every time he thought he would make it, another blow shattered his reality. He couldn’t breathe right.

There was no clear, defining line when it was over. Peter was vaguely aware of movement, and being in a different position. Rough hands on the back of his thighs and another silent scream.

“Why did we have to punish you?” Eddie’s breath was cool against his ear.

Peter flinched into himself. _“B-b’cause I, tried to...run away,”_ he rasped.

Eddie tutted him. “That’s part of it. What else?”

_“Cause I...f-fought you.”_

“Mmhmm. And are you gonna do it again?”

 _“No,”_ Peter whimpered. _“Sir!”_ he added in a panic. “No, sir.”

Eddie laughed under his breath. “Sometimes we like it when you fight us,” he said indulgently. “Do you know why we didn’t like it, tonight?”

Peter whimpered wordlessly. He didn’t know anything. He hurt so much.

A sound of wet movement; Venom coming out. Peter opened his eyes to see the lower half of Eddie’s face had become lipless fangs. His heart gave another sick lurch and he closed his eyes.

“Because we **told you to** **_SIT.”_ **

Peter hiccuped in fear. They _had_ said that; he remembered now.

 _“I’m so sorry,”_ he whimpered.

Eddie put a finger against Peter’s nose, and the teeth melted back into his own full lips. “It was fuckin’ cute, though. Watching you struggle. Your little ass wiggling around.” He squeezed Peter’s thighs, and oh, god, it hurt. Peter writhed back and forth, desperate to push Eddie off him, but he didn’t dare.

 _“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry...”_ He repeated it like a mantra.

Eddie sighed, nuzzled into his neck and smelled his skin.

“We know you are, son. We forgive you.”

Peter shuddered at the words. They were a benediction. They washed the fear away and pushed pain to the background. A lulling buzz filled his head. The agony of his clawed back and whipped thighs and ass felt far away; he floated in a safe cocoon. He could stay there, so long as _they_ were happy with him.

A finger tilted his chin up. Eddie’s lips sealed over his mouth.

 _“Daddy’s gonna fuck your little hole, now, baby,”_ he whispered. _“You want that?”_

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie tsked him. “Uh-uh. Not good enough. What do you say?”

This was it. He’d known they wouldn’t let it go for long. Peter clung onto the cloud of fog around him, tried not to hear himself speak.

“Yes _—_ ”

Eddie put a finger over his lips. **“Try again.”**

Fresh tears stung Peter’s eyes and slipped up his temples, into his hair.

“Pl-lease, fuck me, Dad-dy,” he choked out.

The fog wasn’t enough to protect him.

It wasn’t enough.


	3. Father Figure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie takes what he wants, and Peter learns how to be good.

Eddie and Venom lifted Peter fully onto the bed and rolled him onto his back. Peter couldn’t help the little pain sounds that came out of him. Something wet trickled across the back of his thigh. Sweat or blood; probably both.

Eddie held Peter’s legs together over his left shoulder. Blackness spilled from his arms and chest, wrapped Peter’s legs together and stretched up, up, until it gripped hold of the ceiling. Peter closed his eyes, ready to float away, but Eddie grabbed hold of his hair and shook him.

**“Look at us.”**

Peter blinked and focused on Eddie’s eyes. One blue, one grey, on a sea of black.

“We want you to understand your place here, son. That would make us  _ very _ happy. We could forget what a bad boy you’ve been today.” Eddie’s voice was stern and compassionate. A patient father trying to teach a lesson. 

Peter’s heart fluttered. He wanted Eddie to be happy. He desperately wanted that. But what Eddie wanted from him in return...he couldn’t...it was breaking him. Shattering inside and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to find those pieces again.

Liquid flesh melted across Peter’s forearms, pulled them inward until his wrists were bound in front of him. A thick rope wound around his throat and stretched down his back, caging his torso in those intricate knots Venom was so fond of.

“Tell us,” Eddie said. His one arm wrapped around Peter’s bound legs and stroked the front of his thighs. His other hand worked between Peter’s ass cheeks, spreading slickness across his anus. “Tell us who you are.” 

His gentle strokes promised pleasure and comfort. His reserved gaze threatened punishment if Peter refused to submit. There was no choice. Peter could delay the inevitable, but he would only suffer for it and he was so, so tired of fighting.

_ I’m sorry.  _ The thought was vaguely directed at Mr. Stark, the only man he could remember who’d treated him in a fatherly way.  _ I’m so sorry.  _

_ “I’m your son,” _ Peter whispered. His voice was hardly a breath, but Eddie went statue-still upon hearing it. Even his breathing stopped. Venom, too, seemed to have paused to listen.

Surrender wasn’t so bad, Peter thought. He didn’t have to fight to hold his pieces together. He could just float, just let Eddie take charge.

He wasn’t a hero. He was Eddie Brock’s son.

Tears streamed down the sides of his face as Eddie just kept staring at him. They’d stopped stroking him, and he missed it. He’d done what they wanted, and he  _ needed  _ them. Nothing was right, anymore, not unless they said it was.

_ “Please, Daddy,” _ Peter managed, then choked as a knot the size of a baseball plugged his throat shut. He closed his eyes to sob, then forced them open as he remembered Eddie’s order. Through the mask of tears he couldn’t determine Eddie’s mood, and that terrified him. If he didn’t know how Eddie felt, how could he know how  _ he _ felt?

An ebony cloud gathered between Peter and Eddie: Venom’s head. Dozens of white teeth and a tongue that dripped saliva onto Peter’s chest.

**“Say it again,”** Venom ordered.

Peter fought to swallow the baseball. It bruised his throat on the way down.

“I’m your son.” 

It was easier the second time, but left him breathless like he’d just run a mile.

Lips and beard stubble scraped over Peter’s knee. Eddie kissed his leg while Venom drifted forward. Its dangling tongue stroked Peter’s chin and up the side of his face. One side, then the other, lapping up his tears. Enormous hands pressed down on Peter’s shoulders as Venom formed its own upper body. The gentle lapping of its tongue and Eddie’s soft kisses made Peter squirm. He didn’t know why. Their gentleness felt wrong.  _ He _ felt wrong. He needed pain. He needed punishment.

_ “Please, hurt me,” _ Peter whispered. Eddie’s hand tightened over his thighs. Before he could speak, Peter added:  _ “Please, Daddy. I’m your—s, son, and I—n-need—you—” _

His voice broke off into jagged sobs. No matter how many times he said it, the word still hurt. It felt like sickness. Like the flu, when you can’t stop throwing up. Like a bad sunburn when you can’t get out of bed. 

Like nothing would ever be right again.

It was Venom who answered him.

**“No.”**

_ “Please!” _

“No, baby,” Eddie said, while Venom cupped Peter’s face in both hands.

The sobs shook Peter’s entire upper body. He wouldn’t have thought he could cry any more. 

“Bu-but I ne-ed it,” Peter sobbed. Betrayal twisted in his chest like a pit of snakes. How could they do this to him? Ruin him and force him to feel every second of it?

**“We know what you need,”** Venom said. 

Its tongue pushed between Peter’s lips and slipped into his throat. At the same moment, Eddie’s cock breached his ass.

Peter tried to gasp, wound up choking. Tried to cough, and black spots erupted over his vision. Venom’s claws sank into the back of his neck, breaking skin and then sliding into the wounds they’d made, tendrils of Venom climbing up Peter’s spine and into his skull. He thrashed against his bonds, miles beyond terrified. 

Loud static crackled through his head, as Venom moved inside his brain. Touching things. Changing them. The palette of emotions inside of him shifted. Fear faded into the background, replaced by desperate desire. The pain of his wounds morphed into sparks of light.

The touch of Eddie’s hands became silk on fevered flesh. Venom’s tongue tasted like the sweetest treat he’d ever known. He hadn’t breathed in a solid minute, but he no longer burned for air.

It was transcendent.

The blackness receded from Peter’s vision. Venom’s face and shoulder loomed close; behind it, Eddie cast a knowing look down at Peter and smiled. He rolled his hips. Sparks of absolute  _ ecstasy _ rolled outward from Eddie’s cock. That same pleasure was echoed in Peter’s throat, where Venom’s long tongue had stretched him to the point of pain and beyond.

Peter squirmed in his bonds, but he could barely move. All he could do was take what they were giving him. A shiver like spider legs ran over his shoulders as the symbiote slid back out of his spinal column, but the pleasure and hypersensitivity remained. If Venom hadn’t been throat-fucking him, he would have thanked it. 

Eddie’s hips smacked into Peter’s welted, bruised ass in a steady rhythm. The pain went straight to Peter’s cock, making it throb with pleasure. It felt so good. So good to be dominated by Eddie.

Venom had been right. They knew exactly what he needed. 

Venom’s tongue pulled out of Peter’s throat, and he coughed until spit ran down his cheeks. The wetness felt wanton, like cum against his skin. Peter looked up to find Eddie staring at him, eyes dark and hungry. Wanting. 

“Daddy,” Peter moaned. The word still hurt, but it was distant, smothered under a thick blanket of pleasure-pain. “Yeah, Daddy, fuck me. Oh god, fuck me.”

“Good boy,” Eddie rasped. The roughness in his voice was Novocain over Peter’s heart. Eddie wanted him so much. Wanted to be his father, the father he’d never had, and Eddie was willing, even  _ eager, _ to take care of him. Peter just had to be good.

Eddie’s stomach smacked up against the backs of Peter’s legs, belly hair scraping into the wounded flesh. His hands roamed all over Peter’s legs, his hips and ass, digging into the welts, making him scream between his sobs.

“Oh, fuck me! Please, please, please…”

“That’s our good boy,” Eddie said, breathless. “That’s right. Take it for us, baby.”

His cock pushed the breath from Peter’s lungs. Venom’s tongue fucked back down his throat, over and over, stealing what little breath he had left. Whatever the symbiote had done to him, it kept him conscious long past the point when he should have passed out from lack of air. Venom had changed Peter’s  _ brain. _ A distant terror drove razor blades through Peter’s chest, blades that he felt even through the fog of desire. 

Peter fought against that fear. He didn’t want to be scared anymore. He wanted to feel all the  _ good _ things Eddie was giving him, because the way they were fucking him, it felt  _ so good. _ He swam around in his mind for a seasick moment before he found what he needed. The one shield Eddie had left him to use.

_ They won’t hurt me. They won’t hurt me because they love me. I’m their son. _

_ I’m their son and they want me to feel good. _

_ I’m their son and they love me. They love me. _

_ They love me— _

The orgasm took him by surprise, hot cum that Eddie fucked out of him, slamming into his prostate like he wanted to leave it bruised.

Venom’s tongue pulled out of Peter’s throat so that it could lap the jizz off his chest. It turned, put one arm around Peter’s legs and the other around Eddie, and slipped its tongue into Eddie’s mouth, inch after inch disappearing between his lips until his jaw was stretched wide, and Venom’s tongue had to be somewhere in his chest. Eddie gripped Venom’s inky shoulders, but he also kept an arm around Peter’s legs. Both of them holding him, and each other. A family.

It was…

It was beautiful.

_ I love you, _ Peter tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t work. 

As he watched Eddie and Venom share his cum, black water rose in Peter’s peripheral vision. It filled the room like a tide washing in, submerged his chest, his arms and face, plugged his ears so that he floated in cool silence. 

He could still feel Eddie’s cock thrusting deep inside of him, for a while. Then even that was gone.

 

~~~

 

Peter woke up to a gentle rocking motion. 

He knew Venom’s scent. It was like Eddie’s, but colder somehow, like frostbitten earth. Peter’s eyelids fluttered open for just a second. Just enough to see the ebony swell and white stripes of Venom’s chest.

Venom was holding him in its lap.

The symbiote was so enormous, Peter felt quite literally like a child. Small and protected. It wasn’t mad at him, anymore. It was taking care of him.

_ “I love you,” _ Peter mouthed, just a hint of breath behind the movement of his lips, but Venom heard him. Its tongue lapped across Peter’s cheek and stroked across his lips. Tasting, but not entering. It was being respectful of how worn out he was.

They were so good to him. The father he’d never had.

**“We love you, too,”** they told him.

Peter’s eyelids slipped shut.

He was safe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I would dearly love to hear from you. I am on Tumblr [HERE](http://subverbaldreams.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, I’ve begun posting a story on here called **[Eternity Rising: Family Ties](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19401694/)** which has a similar father/son dynamic to this. It’s my original work and who knows, you might like it. It’s already written in its entirety. I’ll post 1 chapter/week, updating on Saturdays. Hope to see you over there.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my AO3 liberry:
> 
> [Peter Gets Rescued](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892132/chapters/44843719) \- happy ending to Captured
> 
> A Peter / Superior Iron Man / MCU Tony Stark fic (it's just porn) (dubcon): **[The Darkness In Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19244611)**
> 
> A short Stucky fic: **[At the Altar of Vormir](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19046338)**  
>  For some very sexplicit dubcon/noncon Victor Creed/Logan:
> 
>   1. [**Blood is Forever**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/17477456)
>   2. **[Poison](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646176/chapters/41611919)**
> 

> 
> For a short Torture Tuesday prompt featuring Victor/Logan:
> 
>   1. [ **Reconditioning**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/18698554)
> 

> 
> For an epic, dark adventure with tons of consensual gay Wolverine sex, angst, PTSD, and eventual happy ending:
> 
>   1. [**Part 1 Ghost on the Highway**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245922/chapters/40556258)
>   2. **[Part 2 Back into the Fray](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17258645/chapters/40585418)**
> 



End file.
